The wedding planner blinked slowly and measured out her words for me. ‘I called him to begin with. When he didn’t pick up, I called you, but you didn’t answer either.’ She paused, lingering over what to say. ‘I’m so sorry, Annie.’

‘Can I see your phone?’ I said. ‘The message?’

I felt Dad open his mouth to say something, but he thought better of it. I bet he wanted me to be more polite. Instead he moved to put his hand on Freddie’s shoulder. She was my only bridesmaid. With Jo and Brianna married it seemed strange to ask them, and Kezza didn’t want to do it alone, like it was a big sign hanging over her that flashed “The Only Single One Left”. Asma said she’d rather die than walk down the aisle in front of everyone so could she not even be asked? Typical Asma, always shooting straight and to the point. And anyway. Freddie was my everything. Is it strange that a thirteen-year-old is my best friend? Because she is. She’s smart and funny and spunky and everything I wish I could be. I adore her. I could feel her staring at me, her bright eyes darting between all us adults.

‘Please,’ I added. My voice was squeaky and high. Strained. I took a breath and forced a smile at Freddie, trying to tell her not to panic. She scowled. I could tell she was worrying for me. She knew what today meant and had been so excited that I was excited. We’d made sure she was included every step of the way. I didn’t want her to feel like I was abandoning her. Mum can be … well, yes, difficult, and I felt as much responsibility towards Freddie as if she was my own daughter.

The wedding planner with lipstick on her teeth smiled back painfully, her face full of pity. It was something in her eyes. They’d narrowed as her face scrunched up in apology. I hate that look. The look when somebody feels sorry for you. She must have got it all wrong though, I reasoned. She must have been confused, must have misread his message. Alexander wouldn’t simply not turn up on our wedding day. That would be an awful thing to do. Unforgivable. Of course he was coming. We were engaged. People were waiting. I’d not eaten a full meal in six months, was fake-tanned to within an inch of my life, and had on his ring sitting snug on my finger. He’d given it to me on Christmas Day, right when we woke up, the box having appeared on my bedside table at some point in the night.